


gentle, love

by cultkiss



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: IT'S GAY, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, anyway here's a thing, i love my baby, it's all fluff and angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 17:09:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18554128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cultkiss/pseuds/cultkiss
Summary: he's his entire worldand he's everything he's ever wanted.—     the thing is that, mason can't stop breaking his heart with his sad eyes and self destruction.





	gentle, love

**Author's Note:**

> this is completely selfish, he's my baby

        holding his drink to his chest, and standing slightly on his toes — this is the only way kyle can navigate his way through the party.  
  
   there is something intoxicating about the low thrum of the music reverberating against the walls of the frat house — it's almost as if kyle didn't need the mixed drink clutched in his hand.   
  
    but the people here were so interesting — sweaty, loose limbed bodies swaying along with whatever song was playing; high on e, wasted off of their fifth shot of rum — whatever it may be. he couldn't help but let his eyes drag upon their frames, studying each and every stupefied movement of the crowd. there was something beautiful to the madness in their method.  
  
         —    but kyle was looking for someone. someone he knows he shouldn't be.  
  
   you see, kyle could take a hint; and a drink thrown in his face and chest heaving sobs seemed a big enough of a hint. but maybe that was on kyle... he shouldn't have been pushing for him to share.  
  
     but how could he not? when his boyfriend was shaking and unable to speak , upon seeing a man he thought he knew. — but maybe it was out of his control. his dearest has always been angry.  
  
      searching, eyes scanning. he knew that that boy couldn't resist a party — any way quickest to get fucked up beyond seeing and feeling and remembering. it was something they had in common it seemed. substance over pain.  
  
  
    he just wishes mason wouldn't take it too far.  
  
                 — first it was weed.  


  * then drinks upon drinks  
  

  * then he wanted to try shrooms  
  

  * and coke  
  

  * and then whatever came his way, from whoever, however he may get it



  
whatever made the memories go away the quickest.  
  
_but where was he?_  
  
  
   kyle began listing traits in his head on loop, as if not to forget them. (how long has it been since he's seen him? a week? two? two weeks and three days.)  
  
  
_'okay. okay kyle, focus. black hair. brown eyes. round glasses. toothy smiles. dimples. black clothing. chains. loud laugh.' fuck. he was beautiful, wasn't he?_  
  
                        'where are you?'  
  
  
              oh, how he just wanted to lift his face to his, to press a gentle kiss to his lips —  
  
  
        it was something out of a movie, how on cue it was — it almost deserved it's own record scratch, freeze frame.  
  
the rumble of his voice, the sharp cadences of his laughter. yelling.  
  
_'shit'_

 

 _—_ kyle's wandering soon became shoving, throwing elbows into the ribs of girls, spreading the crowd surrounding the sight, cheering and yelling to stop combined in a chemical like stew.   
  
  
                with his vision clear of bodies, and ears emptied from the screaming, he saw him. there he was — in all of his glory; mason valentine, a boy of velvet tongued kisses and honey flavored lips — beating the ever loving _shit_ out of a man twice his size.   
  
             —    _though_ , at this point, it seemed as though he was getting his face pushed into the tiled floor, pinned to the floor on his stomach, arm chicken winged behind his back. mason valentine. kyle's eternal flame, and the light of his life    —    one hell of a mess. but his mess. _his_ mess.  
  
    with his drink sloppily handed to a girl to his right, he stormed his way into the circle. _what was he going to do with this dumb boy?_  
  
    kyle pulled the guy off of him with effort, pushing and shoving at his side, his bicep —  and yet it didn't take long for mason to be on his feet, the guy's friends holding him back as mason spat blood directly into his face — if kyle wasn't so upset in the moment, he might have blushed with how pretty he looked. black locks in his eyes, fingers closed into tight fists.   
  
         "what? _what_? are you _done_? are you fucking done you goddamn faggot? _what_?"  
  
             —     his gentle hurricane of a boy. his disastrous angel.   
  
              with a single fluid motion, kyle's arms were around his waist, yanking him backwards — much to mason's dismay; kicking and hitting at whatever he could get purchase upon. pulled away like a rag doll, his feather light lover dragged alone with him. kyle's voice was raised, much louder than his usual soft spoken manner. — telling him to come with him.  
  
       "kyle! _kyle_! let me the fuck _go_! god, fuck."   
  
kyle did his best to ignore it. he knew him. he knew him better than he knew _himself_ in moments like these. once taken away from the conflict, mason always seemed to lose all of the fire in his veins. and this was no different. his struggling became submission, allowing kyle to drag him down the hall, climbing the stairs with his arm secure and unyielding around mason's waist  
  
            "you can let me go, i'm fine kyle."  
  
  
                _silence_  
  
  
         kyle only held tighter. his patience was running thin with him, and mason could tell, mouth closing, objections dying in his throat with kyle closing the bathroom door behind him.  
  
  
his silence unnerved mason, almost as though it behind it was loaded anger. he gulped as he looked up at him.  
  
  
pretty boy, soft dimpled cheeks and cherubs curls  —  and those _eyes_    —   how he missed those eyes.  
  
      mason's bad habit of isolation and closing himself off to people he loved seemed trivial then, his presence felt like home. the shots burning red hot in his stomach could never get him as drunk as the smell of his aftershave.  
  
  
  he dreaded his disappointment.  
  
  
              "sit"  
  
kyle pointed to the toilet, eyes not meeting mason's as he rummaged through drawers. mason was obedient, feeling as though he owed him at least that, for his behavior, and the radio silence.   
  
     sitting on the toliet, hands under his thighs, looking down at his lap.  
  
  
            —    _'he deserved it'_ he wanted to say _'he was trying to touch me'_  
  
  
but his explanations died along side of his shame. waiting for him to speak first.  
  
  
     kyle searched the bathroom sink endlessly for what he needed. peroxide. cotton swabs. neosporin. placing them on the counter one by one, the sound of them hitting the marble, and the distant thrum of music was the only sound that held in the bathroom.  
  
  
      —   that, and mason's breathing.  
  
  
          kyle knelt in front of mason, silently taking his hand in between both of his own, surveying the damage to his bony knuckles, eyes scanning over each split, the blood caked in between the lines of his hands  —  _'my stupid, stupid boy'_  
  
     pressing peroxide soaked cotton into the wounds, mason whimpers at the sting, apologies falling from kyle's lips.  
  
he wasn't as disappointed, as he was scared   —  scared of seeing the larger man atop his boyfriend, barely one move away from seriously damaging him.  
  
     mason wasn't breakable by any means, he knew that to be a fact, he knew it personally — he could hold his own, but fuck, if it didn't scare him.  
  
        mason's voice was pleading as he next spoke, voice wavering  
  
               "kyle... please just _talk_ to me..." his words are choked behind tears "please...look at me, kyle"  
  
       —   melancholic eyes slowly sliding upward to look into mason's, tears welled the corners, barely grimacing  
  
               it's a look that hurt more than a 200 lbs man punching him in the ribs, stomping on the shards of glass where his heart should be  
  
                     hurting kyle always felt like a slap in the face to mason, as if his own arrogance and greed, effecting his man; was indirect self harm. everything inside of him screamed to run — to hide. to leave kyle before he could hurt him even more.  
  
        _'he deserves so much more than me'_

 _"_ mason _... i don't know what i would have done if you were seriously hurt..._ h-he had you... fuck, he had you on the ground and could have easily done something to you _— shit"_ blinking back tears that were threatening to spill over 'pon rounded cheeks. his heart broke for his boy. the mental image of his gore across the tile — his stomach churned.  
  
                    "do you think i like to see you hurt? i hate it. it makes me feel fucking sick — i— _jesus_ "  
  
        mason couldn't contain the desperate noise from escaping his lips, fingertips lifting slowly— gently sliding across his lover's cheekbone with a feather-like touch.  
  
_'so pretty... so beautiful... please don't cry'_

                      "i—i know kyle, and i— i've been trying."  
                      "mason—"  
                       "i'm sorry"  
  
           a beat of silence surrounds them, eyes connected.  
  
            —   and kyle couldn't help but drop his head into his lap, tears leaving wet spots on his jeans. his smell — something like cinnamon and weed, something like home — it fills his nose and ignites every nerve in his body.  
  
            very slowly, mason lifts his hands to rest within the nest of blonde curls atop of kyle's head — running through them, nails scratching gently at his scalp, head hanging backwards to rest against the wall.

   
        — in any other context, this may have felt like another heaven to mason, digits threading through silky blonde locks, head upon his lap — but among the melancholic sobs escaping his boyfriend, he can feel his world shifting from himself, to another.  
  
              "i love you, kyle. i— fuck, i know i... i'm not the best boyfriend... i can be abrasive and mean and— i run away and get scared but... fuck, i love you and—and i don't want to _scare_ you"   
  
    tears stream down his face, lifting his arm hand to wipe his cheek with the back of his hand, silver rings dragging across an open gash with a wince — before letting it fall back onto his dearest's head.  
  
                "—i hate hurting you like this... i hate to see you cry"  
  
                        eyes closing tightly, letting his tears fall freely— like his sins fall one by one  
    
                    kyle's hands run up and down his thigh as his body wracked with heavy sobs. each more thunderous and devastating than the last — a monsoon of sorrow in mason's earth bound angel.  


                  tight lipped, heavyhearted, kyle lifts his head to gaze upon him — and there was nothing but unending adoration in his eyes.  
  
                               "i love you"  
               
                     three words that made mason's world yellow hued and sun ray stained — three words that felt like a kiss, sunflowers blooming, the smell of the dirt after a heavy thunderstorm.  
  
                              mason want's to be like kyle. turn his pain into beauty, build love from his hurt — he want's to be like kyle. gentle and caring, even after monstrosities have been brought fourth to him — he want's to be like kyle. he wants to feel the roses bloom in his chest, and the goodness blossom from healing wounds. — he wishes he was more like kyle.  
  
  
_my dearest love_  
_from the moment my heavy eyes laid upon your sunken frame, i knew i loved you_  
_in my dreams, i kick my legs and scream_  
_when i wake, your arms are secure around me_  
_you'll hear me scream and cry_  
_a demon with angel' eyes_  
_your deadly disaster_  
_my darling sunrise_  
  
  
                    —  rising to his feet, kyle manages a smile, half cracked by the heaving of his chest. he steps in between mason's thighs.  
          his hands move to hold his face in between them, jaw fitting perfectly in the grooves and curves of his palms — mason's hands move to hold securely onto his waist.  
  
               tear filled brown eyes — love saturated gaze.  
  
                             "your nose ring, baby... does it hurt? you're bleeding— here... let me help"  
                                               
                                      "gentle, love"  
   
_"i always am"_


End file.
